At this very moment, 7 pm, three months ago today I was standing around my aunt's kitchen island making chit chat with my mother-in-law and her best friend while pretending to nibble on some raw broccoli. My body had never felt as uncomfortable as it did that day. Charlie had been dead for almost 12 hours. My mother in law had driven down from Indiana to my hometown in Alabama to escort us back home to Kentucky. I remember the moment that she pulled up in the driveway and I realized that I would have to leave him in Alabama with the coroner while we went home to make arrangements. Back in my cousin's bedroom, now the guest room, with a white quilt that had little sewn circles on it that I fiddled with nervously.
Oh, life is so different than it was back then. Way back then, three months ago. It could be three decades ago to me some days, and some days just three hours. But if there is one thing I know, it is that life is drastically different than it was three months and one day ago. Also drastically different than three months ago to the moment. I'm not curled up in a fetal position fiddling with a quilt with sore eyeballs and and a frog in my throat, and the worst headache of my life.
For that matter, life is drastically different than it was two months ago, May 10th. I was menstruating and a hysterical mess. My cycle had finally returned after a year of absence, and aside from the emotional wreckage of losing a son, I was very unhappy about my physical being. I wouldn't have been in that condition if my son was alive. I'd have still been nursing. It just wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all. I was rage-y and a complete wreck. There are still days that I want to throw things, days that I want to stomp my feet and shake my fists and scream to the top of my lungs, "It's not fair, goddammit, its just not fair!" but that isn't every day anymore. Just Tuesdays :)
I went to sleep last night remembering the very last night I fell asleep with Charlie. He was so beautiful. I woke up this morning knowing it was July 10th, and from the moment I woke, I knew that it was the three month anniversary of Charlie's death. But I've thought about other things as well. I haven't left the house all day today, and I can't say I'm in any real condition to do so, but life is better than it was then. There is some hope that we will be a happy family again. That this event will not be who I am for the rest of my life. I won't just be "that lady whose son died." Part of me feels guilty for wanting more than that, but part of me knows that it's not healthy to focus so much on him that I miss out on everything else that is going on.
This is the first time the anniversary of his death has fallen on a Tuesday, the day of the week that he died. This also means that it will be the first Friday 13th since he passed away. We had to bury him that day, and while Im not superstitious about it, I know that for the rest of our lives every time it is Friday the 13th we won't watch scary movies or think it's cute. We will remember the scariest thing we ever went through. I'm such a nut for dates- I remember almost everyone's birthday and anniversary. It's just a habit, but it's one that I know won't go away.
I'm sure that some of you (if anyone is even reading) noticed that I changed the blog up a bit. Originally, it was a temporary project assigned to me by my therapist. I think I'll keep it up- but I needed something a bit more personal.
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